


Interrogation

by laireshi



Series: Interrogation [1]
Category: Captain America (Comics), Iron Man (Comic), Marvel 616
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Hydra Cap, Hydra Steve Rogers, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, M/M, Not A Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 20:59:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10839345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: “I’m artificial intelligence, Steve. I don’t have a body. You can’t hurt me.”Steve looks at him with dark eyes. “Are you sure of that, Tony?”





	Interrogation

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Допрос](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11781189) by [Irmie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irmie/pseuds/Irmie)



> First of all, I blame Navaan and Comicsohwhyohwhy for not stopping me when they had the chance.
> 
> [Here's a collection of panels with sad, drunk AI Tony](https://laireshi.tumblr.com/post/160268700762/a-collection-of-broken-exhausted-weary-ai-tony). 
> 
> Mind the tags, everyone. And . . . I got so many wonderful messages and support in the past few days, it really motivated me to actually _sit down and write something_ , and it came out dark and unhappy, but hey, that's just what I do in fiction. Thanks, everyone, really. 
> 
> For the "Interrogation" square on my bingo card. I'm original with titles like that.

“I’m artificial intelligence, Steve. I don’t have a body. You can’t hurt me.”

Steve looks at him with dark eyes. “Are you sure of that, Tony?”

A year ago, Tony would’ve shuddered at the expression on Steve’s face, something alien and cruel, something that’s just so utterly _not-Steve_ he can’t get past the wrongness—but he knows better now. This is Steve. And the man Tony had thought he’d known all these years—that man had all been a lie. 

Nothing can hurt him more than that, now.

Steve tilts his head. “He loved you, you know,” he says.

And it’s not quite like Tony just said: he doesn’t have a body anymore, but he’s not an AI, he’s human, he’s used to having a body, and some habits die hard; he takes a step back, closing his eyes briefly.

Steve’s smiling. “He was weak. So very weak. That fake version of me you knew.” His tone is almost conversational. “He loved you so much. Never wanted to hurt you.”

“Stop it,” Tony says, and hates how weak he sounds.

“I don’t _need_ you to find the Champions, Tony,” Steve says. “It’s just more _fun_ this way. He loved you, and so I hate you.”

There’s something there, something off, Tony thinks, but he can’t focus on that, Steve’s words are like blades cutting into every inch of him. He loves—loved, he loved, but not anymore, not this caricature of his friend—Steve for years, for what feels like all of his life. If—

There’s no _if_ here. That Steve was a lie—and this Steve, he’s lying, too. 

“All the times he pulled his blows, all the favours, all the special treatment,” Steve says. “Think on it, Tony.”

He walks out. 

Tony refuses; instead he focuses all his resources on trying to find a way out—but there’s no use, Steve moved his very servers to a screened room, and there’s nothing for Tony to do but to bounce off one wall after another.

(There’s a small subprocess running in his mind, replaying Steve’s words over and over again, _he loved you, he loved you, helovedyou_ , and Tony hates himself even for that.)

***

Steve comes back the next day, the same exact hour, except he has civilian clothes on in place of his Captain America suit, and the star on his chest looks even worse when it’s on a fucking t-shirt. 

At least he doesn’t have his shield, the shield that Tony made for him and Steve’s using to kill innocents now.

Tony would be sick, if he had a body.

“How are you, Shellhead?” Steve asks, and, “Running country is surprisingly time-consuming, you know,” and “Come on, Tony, where are they, you know I can pardon them, the sooner I find them the better,” and Tony tries not to listen.

He needs to fight Steve, somehow, he needs to save Riri and Kamala and all the other kids, he needs to get out of here and he needs to _think_ and he can’t because even as an artificial intelligence, _he still feels drunk_ , and he’s failed on every account so far, maybe it’ll be better if he doesn’t even try.

“Talk to me, Tony,” Steve says then, mocking or maybe not, “I missed the sound of your voice,” and it’s that little _what if he’s serious_ that’s driving Tony mad, because—

 _He loved you, and so I hate you_ , Steve said, and something was off, and Tony has to unravel it.

“Why?” Tony asks. “Just remember what made me Iron Man. I won’t tell you anything; wouldn’t it be safer to just switch me off?”

Steve sighs, almost frustrated. “They just have to swear allegiance. It’ll all go away.”

Tony’s far from thinking straight, but there is one constant to fall back on, here. “ _Never_ ,” he says. “Not one of them, and not me, either.”

“You look terrible,” Steve says. “Seems to me you’re not just a computer program. I could let you out.”

“It’s like you’re not even trying,” Tony tells him. 

“Do it for me, then,” Steve says, crossing his arms. “I don’t want to hurt you, Tony. I will, but I don’t _want_ to.”

Tony laughs in his face.

“Tony—”

“I’m pretty sure there’s no technical way for me to hallucinate, and yet,” Tony interrupts. “You’re not _stupid_ , Steve, you might be immoral, you might be a fucking villain, but you’re not _stupid_. What do you want from me?”

“Work with me,” Steve says.

“Fuck you,” Tony says.

If only he were on top of his game, Tony thinks, he could guess what Steve was playing at.

Or could he? He hadn’t seen the truth for _years_.

Steve leaves him without a word.

***

Steve comes back. 

And back. 

And back.

 _Help me, it’s for the best, help me, didn’t you say you’d listen to me, work with me, Tony, work for Hydra, it’ll make the world better_.

Tony stops listening.

 _He never wanted to fight you, either, he wouldn’t want us to fight now_.

Tony’s not an AI, and he’s used to having a body, but he can’t go on like this. He makes his visual projection disappear, and pretends it means he can’t hear this monster in Steve’s skin anymore.

***

Tony wakes up screaming.

That’s not right. He’s an AI. He doesn’t sleep, he doesn’t lose consciousness, he’s always awake and always aware. He thinks back, and there’s _nothing_ , not since Steve walked out, and—

It’s like his body is on fire.

That’s not right, either, because _he’s an AI._

He doesn’t know what’s going on.

He blacks out.

***

“Move your toes, Mister Stark,” someone says, and Tony does.

“Move your fingers,” someone says, and Tony does.

“Very good,” someone says, and Tony realises what’s wrong, and he tries to move—but he’s falling back under already.

***

Tony wakes up with a headache threatening to split his skull. His very physical skull, and he briefly tenses and relaxes all his muscles, and yes, he has a body again, _how_.

He opens his eyes.

Next to him, Steve Rogers looks impassive, except there, there, a tiny exhale that betrays nervousness. 

_An act_ , Tony tells himself.

“Welcome back,” Steve says.

Tony doesn’t ask what happened. His body was on Helicarrier when it all went down, he just never thought Steve would, could actually do anything. But why not? He’d already proved nothing was beyond him.

“How’re you feeling?” Steve asks when Tony doesn’t say anything.

“Like my best friend of fifteen years turned out to be a Hydra villain,” Tony snarls, and Steve shakes his head, his expression sad.

“We’re bringing order. I thought you’d like it,” he says. “Not to worry, though. I will make you see in the end.”

Tony doesn’t dignify that with an answer.

***

He’s locked in an old-fashioned cell, the kind he can’t easily break out of by hacking digital lock. Back in a physical body, he no longer has any way of checking the time, or even of distracting himself, really: his thoughts always circle back to Steve.

Where has Tony gone wrong? When could he have noticed? Is it really Steve?

(Tony can’t give himself hope it’s not; he hoped it was mind-control and he hoped it was a clone and his hope had killed hundreds.)

Tony expected torture, but mostly he’s left alone with his thoughts, and in a way that’s the worst torture of all. He’s sober, at least, and he clings to it, tries to forget how it felt to be made of bytes and still drunk. Tony Stark, ladies and gentleman, achieving the impossible to run from himself and crawl into the bottle forever.

Steve comes and asks the same questions and Tony hates seeing him, but in a way it’s a reprieve: at least he knows the kids are still safe. There’s still resistance. They will fight back.

***

Steve is back again, his eyes tracing every move Tony makes, and something clicks.

 _He loved you, and so I hate you_.

And the thing is, Tony’s digital self might’ve made himself feel drunk, but there are things that circuits and code can’t understand, and that’s just it: _he loved you, and I hate you_ , and Tony knows one part is a lie, and he knows which it is, and he wants to laugh and cry both.

He’s never wanted it like this.

“You’re doing a shit job of interrogating me, Rogers,” he says, watches Steve falter mid-word with some twisted satisfaction.

He can’t use it, not really, he doesn’t think he’s able to: he loved Steve, the real Steve, too much. _But_. 

He can’t ignore it, either.

***

“You loved him, too,” Steve says, and Tony bites his lip sharply. 

He didn’t foresee _this_.

“But I am Steve,” Steve continues. “I save the world, Tony. Isn’t that what you want to do?”

“Not like this,” Tony says.

“Your little Champions bring only chaos.” Steve sounds impatient. 

“Good for them,” Tony smiles, even though his heart is still racing. He wonders what it is that Steve really needs his help for. If there is anything. “You might have me locked up, but I’ve been telling you since day one: I’ll never help you.”

Steve nods. “So you keep saying. But things have changed since then, haven’t they?”

“ _No_.”

“I’ll bring wine, next time,” Steve promises, almost sweetly, before leaving.

Tony pushes his fist against his mouth to stop himself from begging, _please don’t_. It won’t change anything. He thinks nothing much will. But as long as Steve’s spending time on him, he’s not spending it tracking Riri. That’s good, right?

***

Steve brings back something much more dangerous than wine, and Tony thinks maybe he doesn’t have a way out.

“Now, what was it about hurting you?” Steve asks, and kisses him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please, I don't want to discuss current canon here; I like writing dark otp things and that's what I do. My opinions on storylines and characters are different things and not necessarily reflected by my topic of choice.


End file.
